


first meetings

by challaudaku



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, WHOOOOOO, and dice!, and fray who was mentioned before, and the return of bread and cheese
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/challaudaku/pseuds/challaudaku
Summary: jack kelly, and meeting his fellow newsies
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	first meetings

**Author's Note:**

> or, a headcanon dump of jack meeting all of the newsies and how they got their newsies names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don't know who bread and cheese are, don't worry, they were pulled from my own head and also my own fic, [girls are nice, once or twice (but i never planned on someone like you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922057/chapters/60312124) and they're just older newsies that are sort of like jack's dads  
> day 31, auction 1, gift fic for elizabeth <3333 (857 words by gdocs)  
> this chapter is dedicated to elizabeth; thank you for feeding my newsies problem by letting me write this

Jack wakes up one morning feeling like _today_ is going to be different than every other day he’s had before. It’s probably not true — Bread, the de facto leader of the Manhattan newsies, says that he’s an optimist. Jack thinks that that’s too big of a word to describe him, but he also thinks that every day _has_ to be better than the last one.

“Wake up, Shortstop,” Cheese says, leaning in close to Jack’s bed. Jack sits up quickly, having been awake for probably hours by this point. 

“ _Cowboy_ ,” he insists, a little bit irritated at Cheese’s stupid nickname for him. He’s not _that_ short, honest! He’s simply the youngest of the newsies, and that makes him the shortest.

“Ya can’t give yourself a newsie name, Shorty,” Cheese says, smacking Jack’s shoulder with his hat. 

Jack grumbles but he gets out of bed and starts getting ready for the day. For all of their teasing, Jack knows that the older newsies _do_ love him. Plus, since he’s seven, he’s able to say he’s five, and what person wouldn’t buy a pape from a poor five year old on the street?

By the time Jack gets to the distribution center, trailing behind Bread and Cheese and fray and a few other older newsies, there are already other people there, buying papers. There’s one kid at the end of the line, looking scared as he watches everyone else buying papers. The kid looks like he’s around Jack’s age, and he’s leaning on a crutch, one of his legs hanging limply. His blond hair is peaking out of his too-big hat, and Jack can see Bread and Cheese share a glance with each other.

“Who’s that?” Jack demands, looking up at Bread and Cheese. He’s already feeling a little bit cagey, like someone is coming onto his turf. _He’s_ supposed to be Manhattan’s little, not some kid with a crutch.

“Hey, Crutchie,” Bread calls, walking forward fast. Jack has to jog a little bit to keep up with Bread’s long legs. The new kid — Crutchie, as he’s now been dubbed — takes a second to realize that he’s being called by Bread and he looks at Bread sort of shocked and confused. “You know what to do here?”

Crutchie looks around at the people at the front of the line buying their papes from Weasel and then looks back at Bread, shaking his head slowly.

“That’s alright,” Bread says, speaking to Crutchie with a type of niceness that Bread’s never talked to Jack with. Jack can’t help but feel a little bit _jealous_.

By the time they get to the front of the line, Bread has already introduced himself, Cheese, and — much to his dismay — Jack.

“Hundred papes for Crutchie here,” Bread says, throwing a couple of coins onto the counter and gesturing at Crutchie. 

Jack makes a little sound in his throat. “Hundred?” he repeats, because Jack can’t count the number of times he’s tried to buy that many and has been shot down by Bread. He’s not even allowed to buy _fifty_.

“Hundred,” Bread confirms, and Crutchie looks like he’s going to topple under the weight of all of the papers.

Jack frowns and walks up to the counter and puts down a quarter, one of his own that someone gave him a few weeks ago. He’s been saving it for something special, and he thinks that showing off in front of the new kid counts as something special. 

“Fifty,” Jack tells Weasel. 

“Twenty,” Bread insists, giving Weasel a Look and one of his own dimes. Jack glares up at Bread as Bread hands him his quarter and twenty papers.

“Ya gave him a _hundred_ ,” Jack says, pointing his chin over at Crutchie.

“Great,” Bread says, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder, in a way that’s friendly but firm, silently telling Jack that he’s not in the mood for an argument. “Sell with him and you can share.”

Jack can’t help but pout up at Bread because he doesn’t want to sell with the new kid. He doesn’t want anything to do with the new kid! Bread stares right on back, and Jack can tell the warning in his eyes.

Jack rolls his eyes and sighs and stomps over to Crutchie.

“Give me half your papes,” Jack says, as he watches Crutchie struggle to hold them. “That way we’s both have an even amount.”

Crutchie frowns for a second, but then he gives Jack half of his papers, looking more than happy that Jack is talking to him.

“Nice ta meet ya,” Crutchie says, smiling at Jack.

Jack doesn’t smile back. He is _not_ going to be friends with this kid, not when this kid is trying to steal his rightful spot.

Still, Jack sells with the kid, because he knows Bread wants him to, and he had someone selling with him on his first day — it’s how he’s become such an amazing newsie, now. 

And, if by the end of the day, Jack finds himself wanting to talk to Crutchie more…

Well, that’s nobody else’s business.

 _Maybe_ they’ll be friends. Maybe.


End file.
